RULES OF DEBATE
"It is true," says Bacon, "that what is settled by custom, though it
be not good, at least is fit. It were good, therefore, that men in
their innovations would follow the example of time itself, which,
indeed, innovateth greatly, but quietly." Parliament has certainly
acted upon this advice, and nowhere is the steady and silent
legislation by precedent more conspicuous than in the forms which
govern the procedure of both Houses. Occasional practices have become
usages, growing with the growth of Parliament, adapting themselves
imperceptibly to the circumstances which at once created and required
them, "slowly broadening down from precedent to precedent," like that
national freedom of which the poet sings.
Parliament has kept as close as possible to the wings of Time, and, as
Plunket said, has watched its progress and accommodated its motions to
their flight, varying the forms and aspects of its institutions to
reflect their varying aspects and forms. For if this were not the
spirit that animated Parliament, "history would be no better than an
old almanack."[237] In spite of this, however, the maxim which Sir
Edward Coke declared to be written on the walls of the House of
Commons, that old ways are the safest and surest ways, still prevails,
and it is not often that any parliamentarian has the courage to say,
as Phillips said to Coke on a memorable occasion, "If there be no
precedent for this, _it is time to make one_."[238]
[237] O'Flanagan's "Lives of the Irish Chancellors," vol. ii. p. 541.
(The same simile was used by Boswell. See Croker's "Dr. Johnson," vol.
iii. p. 41.)
[238] Forster's "Sir John Eliot," vol. i. p. 405.
The machine of a free constitution, as Burke declared, is no simple
thing, but as intricate and delicate as it is valuable; and to keep
that machine in good working order, to make the wheels run smoothly,
it has been found necessary to frame a code of procedure which has its
roots in the traditions and precedents of the parliamentary history of
the past. For hundreds of years any attempt to alter the ancient
procedure was looked upon as a kind of sacrilege. It was not until the
Speakership of Shaw Lefevre that any serious changes were made in the
business methods of Parliament, and Rules and Standing Orders devised
to expedite business and reduce waste of time to a minimum.
The maintenance of order and the acceleration of business have always
been the main objects sought for, for which provision is now made in
the Standing Orders of both Houses. These have been revised and their
number increased from time to time, no fewer than twenty-one
committees having been appointed between the years 1832 and 1881, for
the sole purpose of improving the procedure of the House of
Commons.[239]
[239] Select Committees met in 1837, 1848, 1854, 1861 and 1871, and a
Joint Committee of both Houses considered the question in 1869.
The most important, perhaps, are those which refer to speaking in
debates--the chief duty of those who take any part in the
deliberations of Parliament.
Speeches in either House must be delivered in English and _extempore_,
the speaker standing uncovered above the bar. Formerly, when the House
of Commons was in Committee, members could speak sitting, and nowadays
invalid members are usually allowed this privilege. Even these,
however must obey the rule as to being bareheaded. The only occasion
on which a member may--and indeed must--speak sitting and covered is
during a division when a question of order arises upon which he wishes
to address the House. Gladstone, who never wore his hat in the House,
once provoked loud cries of "Order!" by forgetting this last rule.
Realising his mistake, he hastily borrowed the headgear of a friend.
Being, however, blessed with an unusually large head, his appearance
in a hat several sizes too small for him caused much amusement.
Peers and members occasionally wear their hats while sitting in their
respective Houses, as a protection from the glaring light or from the
extraordinary draughts caused by the modern system of ventilation; but
they invariably uncover to move about from one place to another. They
also momentarily remove their hats when the Chancellor or Speaker
enters, or when a message from the Crown is read. It is customary,
too, to uncover as a sign of respect when a vote of thanks is proposed
or an obituary speech made in memory of a deceased statesman. There is
an instance in Stuart days of a member expressing his disapproval of a
vote of thanks by clasping his hands upon the crown of his hat and
cramming it down over his eyes, but this has never been repeated.
The Quaker Pease was always disinclined to comply with the rule that
members should walk about the House uncovered. A doorkeeper was
therefore instructed to remove this member's hat quietly as he
entered, and keep it safely hidden until he wished to leave. After a
time, Pease became accustomed to doing this for himself, and the
doorkeeper was relieved of his duty.[240]
[240] Pryme's "Recollections," p. 220.
Disraeli, like Gladstone, sat bareheaded in the House of Commons, but
kept his hat under his seat ready for an emergency. It was then the
general custom of members to wear their hats in the House, but
fashions have changed, and Cabinet Ministers to-day generally leave
their head-gear in the private rooms with which they are now
accommodated, while humbler legislators make use of the hat-pegs
provided for the purpose in the entrance hall of both Houses.
In the Commons, as we have already noted, the member who first
catches the Speaker's eye has the prior claim to speak. In the Lords a
different rule obtains. Should two peers rise simultaneously, one
usually gives way to the other. Otherwise the House decides, if
necessary by a division, which of the two is to address it.
In the House of Lords peers address their fellows; in the Commons
members are bidden to direct their remarks to the Speaker, or in
Committee to the Chairman. This practice dates from the old days when
the Speaker was the mouthpiece of the House and it was very necessary
for members to make clear to him the exact nature of their grievances
or petitions, so that he might transfer them correctly to the Crown.
In the Commons the rules prescribe that no reference to previous
debates of the same Session shall be made, unless these were upon the
subject now under discussion. It is likewise "out of order" to read
from a newspaper or book any printed speech made within the same
Session. No allusion is allowed to speeches made in the other Chamber,
the idea being that debates are secret and unknown. This rule,
however, is neatly evaded by the simple process of referring to
"another place," a euphemism under which members of either House can
disguise their allusions to the proceedings of the other.
Seditious or treasonable words are sternly forbidden in Parliament, as
is also the use of the sovereign's name to influence debates. No
member may commit contempt of court by referring to matters that are
_sub judice_, nor may he insult the character or proceedings of either
House, or use his right of speech for the purpose of obstructing
public business in his own.
In May, 1610, "a member speaking, and his Speech seeming impertinent,
and there being much Hissing and Spitting. It was conceived for a
Rule, that _Mr. Speaker may stay Impertinent Speeches_."[241] Thirty
years later an order of the House was framed, whereby, "If any touch
another by nipping or irreverent speech, the Speaker may admonish
him. If he range in evil words, then to interrupt him, saying: 'I pray
you to spare those words.'"[242] Nowadays debate must be relevant to
the matter before the House, and the Speaker may not only call upon an
impertinent or irrelevant member to cease speaking, but may even use
his discretion as to refusing to propose to the House a motion which
he considers to be of a purely obstructive character.
[241] Scobell's "Rules and Customs of Parliament," p. 19.
[242] "Orders, Proceedings, Punishments, and Privileges," etc.
("Harleian Miscellany," vol. v. p. 259.)
Disorderly conduct in Parliament was punishable by fine in 1640, when
Strode, ever a stickler for parliamentary decorum, moved that "every
one coming into the House who did not take his place, or did, after
taking his place, talk so loud as to interrupt the business of the
House from being heard, should pay a shilling fine, to be divided
between the sergeant and the poor."[243]
[243] Forster's "Grand Remonstrance," p. 206 n.
Since Strode's day a number of further regulations have been added to
the code of parliamentary procedure, but the Speaker's task of keeping
order is facilitated by the desire on the part of every member to
uphold the authority of the Chair. This expresses itself in the
courtesy with which that piece of furniture, or rather, its occupant,
is treated. Whenever a member of the House of Commons passes the Chair
he accords it a slight bow, and this rule is never willingly
infringed. He bows to it when he enters the chamber, and again when he
leaves, and is always particularly careful not to intercept his person
between it and the speaker who happens to be addressing the House. In
the Upper House, the Woolsack is treated with similar deference, no
lord knowingly passing between it and any other lord who is speaking,
or between it and the table. There being no Speaker authorized to keep
order in the Lords, when "heat is engendered in debate," it is open to
any peer to move that an ancient Standing Order referring to asperity
of speech be read by the Clerk.
[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN 1910]
Whether or not language be "parliamentary" is always a matter
difficult to determine. In the House of Commons it is left entirely to
the discretion of the Chair. Lord Melbourne remembered a Speaker
ruling it out of order to refer to any one as "a member of the
Opposition."[244] Even the familiar "Hear! hear!"--the modern version
of "Hear him!" which was the sign of approbation in the days of
Pitt--has been ruled to be disorderly, if uttered in an offensive
manner. Major O'Gorman was "named" by Speaker Brand for insisting that
he had the right to shout "Hear! hear!" after every word, every
semi-colon, and every comma of a member's speech. In 1887, Speaker
Peel called the attention of the House to the fact that "Shame!" was
an unparliamentary expression, and rebuked an Irish member for
continuously shouting "Order! Order!" in a disorderly manner.
[244] Torrens' "Life of Melbourne," vol. ii. p. 375.
Any epithet which reflects upon the character of a member of either
House, or upon the conduct of the King or of others in high places, is
considered to be disorderly, though notice is not always taken of it.
In 1672, on the first day that Lord Shaftesbury took his seat as Lord
Chancellor, the Duke of York called him a rascal and a villain. "I am
much obliged to your Royal Highness for not calling me likewise a
coward and a Papist," was the Chancellor's urbane reply. When Feargus
O'Connor, in 1848, denying the charge of Republicanism that had been
brought against him, said that he didn't care whether the Queen or the
devil sat on the Throne, what threatened to develop into a
disagreeable incident was averted by the pleasantries of the Prime
Minister. "When the honourable gentleman sees the sovereign of his
choice on the throne of these realms," said Peel, "I hope he will
enjoy, and I feel sure he will deserve, the confidence of the Crown!"
Matters were not always so easily smoothed over. In 1675, during the
debate on the Address, Coke was committed to the Tower for remarking,
"I hope we are all Englishmen, and are not to be frightened out of
our duty by a few high words"--an observation which was considered to
cast a reflection upon James II. In 1823 Canning stigmatized as
"false" a statement of Brougham's, and for a long time refused to
withdraw the offensive expression. The worthy Plimsoll was carried
away by feelings of righteous indignation in 1875, and referred to
certain shipowners, who were also members of the House, as "villains."
It was not until a week later that he could be induced to apologise.
O'Connell called Lord Alvanley a "bloated buffoon," and declared
Disraeli to be the lineal descendant of the impenitent thief on the
Cross.[245] Disraeli himself, in 1846, likened Lord John Russell to a
vulture, and Mr. Biggar was termed an "impudent scoundrel" by a
fellow-member in 1881. Nine years later Dr. Tanner referred to Mr.
Matthews, the Home Secretary, as "one of the basest and meanest skunks
that ever sat upon that bench"; and among the titles which have been
freely conferred upon Mr. Chamberlain by his enemies, "Judas" and
"d----d liar" are by no means the most opprobrious. Such language,
however, is mercifully rare, and no modern Prime Minister could say,
as Lord North did to the alderman who presented a petition from the
electors of Billingsgate, that the honourable gentleman spoke not only
the sentiments, but even the very language of his constituents.
[245] Grant's "Recollections of the House of Lords," p. 407. Lord
Alvanley was the sporting peer who out hunting met a well-known West
End artist in pastry who was having some trouble with his horse. "I
can't hold him," said the confectioner, "he's so devilish hot!" "Why
don't you ice him, Mr. Gunter?" said Lord Alvanley.--(Maddyn's "Chiefs
of States," vol. ii. p. 214.)
A member may not speak at all unless a question is before the House,
or he intends to conclude with a motion or amendment; but an exception
is made in favour of a personal explanation, or of a question of
privilege suddenly arising, which commands precedence over all other
business. Questions also may be addressed to Ministers before public
business commences, and the latter may make statements of public
interest.
Save when the House is in Committee, a member or peer is not allowed
to speak twice upon the same question, unless on a point of order, or
to explain some unintelligible portion of a first speech. If, however,
he has moved a substantive motion, he has a right of reply at the end
of the debate. Once when Lord North was speaking, a dog ran barking
into the House. "Mr. Speaker," said the Prime Minister, "I am
interrupted by a new member!" The dog was eventually driven out with
some difficulty, but shortly afterwards re-entered by another door,
when it began barking as loudly as ever. Lord North remarked dryly
that the new member had spoken once already, and was consequently
violating the rules of the House.[246]
[246] Harford's "Recollections of Wilberforce," p. 93. An exception to
this rule was made on November 4, 1909, when, in accordance with the
general wish of the House, the Speaker permitted the Prime Minister
and the Leader of the Opposition to speak, although both had already
joined in the debate on the previous night.
In the House of Lords peers speak of one another by name, but in the
Commons it is the custom to refer to colleagues by their
constituencies, as "the Honourable (or Right Hon.) gentleman, the
member for Hull (or West Birmingham, etc.)." The title "honourable" is
always used in conjunction with a member's name, but should be
reinforced by the epithet "gallant" or "learned" in the case of a
naval (or military) member, or of a lawyer.[247]
[247] Sir Wilfred Lawson was once sarcastically referred to as "the
honourable and amusing baronet" (See "Men and Manners," p. 152.)
It was not until after the Reform Act of 1832 that the practice of
referring to members by their constituencies came into fashion. In
Stuart days it was not customary to mention either the names or the
constituencies of members. They were simply referred to as "the
gentleman on the other side of the way," "the member that last spake,"
etc. Nowadays it is usual to talk of a member, if on the same side of
the House, as "my honourable friend"; and if on the opposite side, as
"the honourable gentleman (or member)." But opponents sometimes
publicly include one another within the sacred circle of honourable
friendship, though politically they may be the bitterest enemies.
There is no rule of procedure regulating the length of speeches in
either House. A man may speak for as long as he likes, the only limit
being set by his own powers of endurance or the patience of his
audience; but his remarks must be relevant. "If any speak too long,
and speak _within the matter_, he may not be cut off; but if he be
long, and _out of the matter_, then may the Speaker gently admonish
him of the shortness of the time, or the business of the House, and
pray him to make as short he may."[248] As a matter of practice his
fellow-members will probably have admonished him of the shortness of
the time long before by shouting "'Vide! 'Vide!" until he brings his
speech to a welcome close.
[248] "Orders, Proceedings, Punishments, and Privileges of the
Commons" ("Harleian Miscellany," vol. v. p. 8).
The determination to proceed in spite of this hint that his efforts
are unappreciated only increases the uproar, for, as Burke once said,
the House of Commons has an intense dislike for anything resembling
obstinacy.[249] A Khedive of Egypt, who visited the House of Commons
at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and listened with surprise
to the deafening noise made by a political audience, came to the
conclusion that the shouting of "'Vide!" was the ordinary English mode
of expressing intense boredom. On his return to Egypt he suffered much
from the protracted interviews which he was compelled to grant to Sir
John Bowring, a prosy talker, who had been sent to Cairo in 1837 on a
commercial mission. The Khedive's patience finally became exhausted,
and one day, while Sir John was as usual addressing him at
unconscionable length, His Highness began exclaiming "'Vide! 'Vide!
'Vide!" and continued doing so until his visitor was reduced to
silence.
[249] "The House has a character of its own. Like all great public
collections of men, it possesses a marked love of virtue and an
abhorrence of vice. But among vices there is none which the House
abhors in the same degree with _obstinacy_" ("Works and
Correspondence," vol. iii. p. 215).
The words of Speaker Spencer Compton have often been quoted to show
that members are acting within their rights in preventing the delivery
of a speech; that, as Bright said, the House can employ noise "as a
remedy" against a dull or prolix speaker. A member appealed to Compton
to restore order, urging that he had a right to be heard. "No, sir,"
replied the Speaker, "you have a right to speak, but the House has a
right to judge whether they will hear you!" This, according to so
great an authority as Hatsell, was an altogether wrong decision, the
Speaker's chief duty being to keep the House attentive and quiet.
In the House of Lords, where there is no Speaker to curtail a lengthy
or irrelevant speech, any peer may propose that the noble lord who is
on his legs "be no longer heard"--a disagreeable but effective way of
informing a bore of his prolixity.[250] This method was unsuccessfully
tried in the Commons in 1880. O'Donnell had put down a question asking
whether M. Challemel Lacour, the prospective French Ambassador at the
Court of St. James's, had, "as one of the Prefects of the Provisional
Government of September 4, 1870, ordered the massacre of Colonel
Latour's battalion, and had been fined £3000 by a Court of Justice for
plundering a convent." Gladstone moved that the honourable member "be
no longer heard;" but the Speaker, on being appealed to, stated that
this was an unusual course, which had certainly not been adopted for
at least two hundred years. A "scene" ensued, and finally O'Donnell
was induced to put down the question again for a later date. Before
this day arrived, however, the Speaker tactfully managed to suppress
the question altogether, as being "beyond the cognisance of the House
or the Queen's Government."
[250] The last instance of this occurred on May 6, 1884, when Lord
Waveney was addressing the House.
Occasional efforts have been made to stem the flow of parliamentary
eloquence in the Commons, but without much success. The late Sir Carne
Rasch tried for years to shorten speeches, but in vain. Mr. Hogan
sought to introduce the New Zealand scheme, whereby the Speaker rings
a bell when any member has spoken for twenty minutes; but though Mr.
Balfour declared that twenty minutes erred on the side of generosity,
nothing came of this suggestion. In spite of a good deal of
unnecessary talking, the House of Commons gets through a lot of work,
though there is no doubt that, as Bright said, more business could be
done if so much time were not wasted in unprofitable eloquence.[251]
Dr. Johnson, visiting a musical family of his acquaintance, suggested
that they should all perform together. "There will then," he
explained, "be more noise, but it will be sooner over." Similar
suggestions have been made with regard to the House of Commons, but
the question of stifling parliamentary loquacity remains unsolved.
[251] "I must say that it (the House of Commons) would be a better
machine if men were a little less vain, and would adopt a policy of
silence. If they would be anxious to get through the business of the
House without so much anxiety for self-exhibition as I have sometimes
observed, I think the House of Commons might do a good deal more work,
and very much better work than it does at present."--Speech at the
Fishmongers' Hall, April 27, 1881.
When such loquacity was deliberately employed to delay business,
obstruction took various forms, of which the favourite one a few years
ago consisted of motions to adjourn the debate or adjourn the House.
Sheridan once made this motion nineteen successive times, until
members were so tired of tramping through the lobbies that they gave
in and went home.[252] In 1831, on July 12th, the opponents of the
Reform Bill saw that their only hope lay in retarding the business of
the House. They set about to force a division on repeated motions for
adjournment, and it was not until 7.30 a.m. of the following day that
the Commons at length adjourned. Sir Charles Wetherell, who led the
Opposition on this occasion, came out of the House to find that it
was raining hard. "By God!" said he, "if I'd known this, they should
have had a few more divisions!"[253]
[252] Grant's "Recollections," p. 53. Nowadays no member can make this
motion more than once.
[253] Molesworth's "History of the Reform Bill," p. 214.
In 1833, and again ten years later, the Irish party resisted two Bills
by this means, on the latter occasion calling for no less than
forty-four divisions. And when the Copyright Bill of 1839 was being
debated, a minority of nine members compelled one hundred and
twenty-seven of their colleagues to divide sixteen times.
There is, as Gladstone said, no art or science which has made such
advance in modern times as has that of parliamentary obstruction.
Gladstone himself resolutely and systematically obstructed the passage
of the Divorce Bill, as Sir Robert Peel before him had obstructed Lord
Grey's Reform Bill. These statesmen, however, employed a recognised
form of opposition to some particular measure. It was left for the
Irish party to devise a system of regular opposition to the conduct of
any parliamentary business whatsoever.
Parnell's knowledge of the rules of debate was extensive and peculiar.
He himself acted upon the advice which he once gave to a new member
when he told him that the best way to learn the regulations of the
House was by breaking them. It was he who originated the idea of
employing what he called "the sacred right of obstruction" as a
protest against the alleged Government neglect of Irish grievances. He
sought by this means to show that, though his party was not powerful
enough to carry through its own work properly, it was sufficiently
strong to prevent the English Government from doing any work at all.
In this way he no doubt thought to carry out the last wishes of
Grattan, and to "keep knocking at the Union."
The forms of the House of Commons, as Sir George Cornwall Lewis has
said, were avowedly contrived for the protection of minorities; and
they are so effectual for their purpose as frequently to defeat the
will of the great body of the House, and enable a few members to
resist, at least for a time, a measure desired by the majority.[254]
The Irish have, of course, always been dissatisfied. If they had
happened to be in the wilderness with Moses, as Bright once observed,
they would probably have complained of the Ten Commandments as a
harassing piece of legislation--and not altogether without
justification. But in 1874, when they adopted the attitude of
antagonism to the transaction of all business, obstruction in such a
form as this was a novelty, and their more constitutionally-minded
leader, Butt, repudiated Parnell and his methods. The latter was not
to be moved from his purpose, however, and with half a dozen intrepid
and obstinate followers continued the practice of an organized plan of
obstruction, of which the only flattering thing that can be said is
that it was for a long time completely successful.
[254] See "Influence of Authority in Matters of Opinion," p. 219.
Parnell himself deliberately expressed his satisfaction in thwarting
the Government and preventing the progress of parliamentary business.
He gloried in his offence, thinking very probably that England's
difficulty was Ireland's opportunity. On sixty-nine occasions in 1877,
when the House of Commons was forced to divide, the minorities never
consisted of more than eleven members, and in one hundred divisions
they did not exceed twenty-one. Parnell addressed the House five
hundred times in the session of 1879, constantly repeating the same
arguments, raising points which had already been ruled out of order,
making a variety of frivolous objections, and showing in a hundred
ways that his evident desire was merely to waste the time of
Parliament.
Owing to obstructive Irish tactics, the Land Act of 1881 required no
less than fifty-eight sittings before it could be passed. In the same
year the climax of obstruction was reached, and it became obvious that
some measures must be taken to prevent the continuation of such a
state of affairs. On January 31, which was a Monday, the House of
Commons met at 4.30 p.m. and sat without interval until 9.30 a.m. on
the following Wednesday. But for the intervention of the Chair, the
sitting might have been prolonged indefinitely. Fortunately, Speaker
Brand was a strong man, and had privately determined to put a stop to
a condition of things which was bringing the House into contempt and
threatening the complete breakdown of all legislative business.
On resuming the Chair on the Wednesday morning, the Speaker rose and
addressed the House in a carefully prepared speech. He began by
expressing his unqualified disapproval of the continual obstruction of
a stubborn and inconsiderable minority, whereby the ordinary rules of
procedure had been rendered ineffective, and the dignity of the House
endangered. Acting on his own responsibility, he declared that a new
course was imperatively demanded. He declined therefore to call upon
any more members to speak, and proceeded to "put the question,"
relying upon the House to support him in this unusual act.
The Speaker had accurately gauged the "sense of the House";[255] his
solution of the difficulty was loudly applauded, save of course upon
the Irish benches, and, after a sitting that had lasted for over
forty-one consecutive hours, weary members were at last enabled to
enjoy a well-earned repose.
[255] With regard to those well-worn expressions, the "sense" of the
House and the "feeling" of the House, it has been stated that the
House of Commons has more sense and feeling than any one who sits upon
its benches: "The collective wisdom of Parliament exceeds the wisdom
of any single head therein."
Shortly after this memorable scene, a new set of rules was framed,
restricting debate on all dilatory motions, and preventing any member
from making them more than once. The authority of the Speaker also was
increased, and it was made optional for him to put the question
forthwith, if he thought the rules were being abused. He was also
endowed with the power of at any time silencing an unruly or
obstructive member.
In 1882, Gladstone proposed an alteration of the Procedure
Regulations, which allowed the Speaker or Chairman, when a subject had
been adequately discussed, and it was evidently the sense of the House
that the question be put, so to inform the House; and, if a motion to
this effect was put and carried, supported by more than two hundred
members, or supported by one hundred and opposed by less than forty,
the question was to be put forthwith. This "Closure" rule was amended
six years later, when it was resolved that, after a question had been
proposed, any member could move that "the question be now put," and,
with the Speaker's approval, this motion might be put without debate,
provided that in the division not less than one hundred members voted
in its support.
Still more stringent regulations have since been made to thwart the
obstructive tendencies of a certain section of every Opposition. By a
recent Standing Order, the end of a debate may be fixed by resolution
of the House for a certain hour and date, and, if the subject is not
disposed of by that time, the undiscussed remainder must be decided by
a vote upon which there can be no debate. This is known as the
"guillotine" or "closure by compartments," and has been commented on
adversely by all minorities and sedulously practised by every
Government since its inception.
In spite, however, of the many efforts which have been made to
accelerate business, the parliamentary machine moves but slowly, and
the time spent in discussing any measure to which there is active,
sincere, and persistent opposition shows no signs of diminishing in
length. Thus, while the Home Rule Bill of 1893 required 180 divisions,
the Education Bill of 1902 required 295; and over the Finance Bill of
1909 Parliament spent something like 73 days (or 740 hours) and
divided no less than 420 times.